Family Spirit
by Ardhoniel Marvelite
Summary: The Guardians of the Galaxy (plus Mantis) return to the once-again-rebuilt Milano. But this time, the team gains more than they realize... Spoilers for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2.


**Family Spirit**

Peter grinned to himself as he led his team back into he now fully repaired Milano. He'd missed his- their ship, while they'd stayed with Kraglin, and he was looking forward to showing Mantis- his 'sister'- around her new home, small though it was. He spread his arms with a flourish, gesturing to the ship's interior. "So, this is the Milano! Welcome to your new home, Mantis." He smiled, waiting for her to respond.

Mantis in fact was looking around the ship in amazement. "How do all five of you happily share such a small living space?"

"With a lot of bickering, usually." Gamora commented dryly. "And if I were you, I'd make the most of how clean and tidy it is right now. It will resemble a Badoon garbage site before the week's out, with the combined efforts of Peter, Rocket and Groot. Just so you're warned."

Mantis blinked, clearly not fully understanding. Rocket glared at Gamora. "We ain't _that_ bad!" He looked to Peter for support. Peter only shrugged, knowing Gamora had a _tiny_ point. Maybe.

Drax beamed. "It is good to be back in our own living space once more. I grew tired of sharing our communal space with Kraglin and other beings we barely knew."

They all nodded their agreement with that, then Groot took off running towards 'his' room- a.k.a. the one he shared with Rocket since the raccoon had declared Groot too young to sleep alone- with Rocket himself indulgently following the sapling, Gamora heading towards the cockpit, presumably to set co-ordinates to get them off this world, and Drax stomping towards the kitchen/dining area.

Left alone with Mantis, Peter suddenly felt awkward. She stared at him, obviously waiting to be told what to do next. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking, before inspiration struck. "We should find you somewhere to sleep!" He made his way down to where the bunks were, Mantis trailing after him silently. They could hear Rocket and Groot talking through the partition that gave each of the bunks privacy, and kept going until they reached the last unused bunk. That just happened to be right next to Gamora's. Peter hid his gulp. Gamora and Mantis hadn't exactly made _friends_ during the time they'd spent together, but there was no other space left... oh well. He'd let Gamora know, and if she wasn't happy, they'd have to figure out a room change. (The image of Gamora sleeping in _his_ room, with him, jumped into Peter's mind and was quickly squashed. _No!_ , he told himself firmly).

He gestured to what would be Mantis' bunk. "Yeah, so... that'll be your room. I know it's small, but all the rooms are the same. Except we all have stuff in ours... Tell you what, next time we land somewhere decent, I'll take you planetside for some shopping, you can get some clothes, books, whatever."

A smile spread on Mantis' face, only to vanish and be replaced with confusion a few seconds later. "I thank you, but... I do not understand."

Peter shrugged. "Well, we all have personal stuff. I have my music and other stuff I've collected, Drax has a knife collection, Gamora has an arsenal of her own weapons, Rocket collects stuff to _build_ bombs and guns... I just figured you'd like some stuff of your own. It's cool if you don't, but-"

"No, no! I am grateful, do not misunderstand. It's just..." Mantis stared at the floor. "I helped Ego, for years. Countless numbers of your siblings died at his hand while I did nothing but watch. Are you not supposed to hate me as much as you hated Ego?"

Peter shook his head vehemently. "I don't judge people for stuff they did in their pasts. Everyone on this team has done stuff they regret, because they thought it was right or because they had no choice. We're all pretty screwed up because of it... but that's why we're a team. We've all chosen to stick together and do better, _be_ better."

A tiny smile grew on Mantis' face. "That is... a hopeful thought. Thank you." She moved forward uneasily. "I believe Terrans show appreciation through... hugs?" Awkwardly, she placed one arm round Peter's shoulder and gave a barely-noticeable squeeze. "Is that how it's done?"

Peter smiled and nodded, before gesturing to Mantis' room. "I'll leave you to get settled in." Walking away, he went to his own bunk, hoping that the repair job hadn't totally remodeled the place.

His bunk was pretty much what he'd expected- as good as new- except for the weird pile of stuff on his bed. Frowning, he peered at it. A bunch of weeds and flowers, laid like they were in a bunch (most of which he recognised as plants from Ego), a ragged hair ribbon, its color impossible to determine, it was so faded, brittle pages that looked they'd been torn from a child's story book in a language he didn't know, a battered doll, a tattered fragment of a blue blanket, a minuscule soft leather shoe, an old teddy bear with almost all its fur rubbed off, and _the shattered remains of his Walkman_.

Peter blinked several times, then decided it must be one of Groot's jokes, though _when_ the little tree had had time to do this puzzled him. He went to clear up the pitiful items, then froze as what felt like a tiny hand clasped his. His other hand was held as well, then there were feather-light touches on his hair, patting his shoulders, and hugs as light as gossamer. A gentle breeze filled the room, echoing as if little voices were whispering excitedly. ' ** _Brother... brother... brother._**..' The voices all spoke in different languages, but all said the same word, and the hugs and caresses continued.

Peter looked down at the collection of forlorn, old children's belongings, and swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes smarting. He _knew_ who these things had once belonged to... (He'd seen thousands of children's bones, left to rot near Ego's core for how long, centuries, longer? All his innocent half-siblings, murdered in cold blood by Ego...) And these few items been left here somehow... as what? Some way of thanking Peter for finishing Ego? Peter wasn't superstitious, he did _not_ believe in ghosts, but there was no denying that someone or something was there with him now, either seeking or trying to give comfort.

' _ **Brother... brother... thank you... free... so brave... hero... brother.**_..' The tiny wisps of voices continued to overlap, more tiny hands patted and hugged him, and a huge sense of joy and relief flooded Peter. Swallowing hard, he lifted each of the fragile items as though they were priceless jewels, and placed them safely in storage. He'd keep these things, have them preserved. For the sake of the kids who shouldn't have had to die, whose lives had been stolen, like his mother's had been. And he would never forget any of them.

* * *

Peter kept his word, keeping the toys and belongings safe in his room. His friends didn't comment on this after Mantis recognized where several of the items came from and, puzzled, had asked how Peter had them. He couldn't explain that part, but had explained he kept the stuff to remember his lost siblings. He thought the other Guardians each understood this memorial, in their own way, given their own losses.

And, if, sometimes, one or two of the items ended up in random places on the ship (usually wherever Peter was) or if a child's giggle could be heard, or a series of whispering children's voices filled an empty room, or, occasionally, in the morning, the sitting room looked like a child had played forts in there... They all assumed it was Groot, even when he hadn't been aboard the Milano. (Because if no-one said the word 'ghost', then no-one could say they weren't real.) The young Flora Colossus, despite sometimes staring at thin air when he was blamed, never said it wasn't him.

It was an unspoken belief that Peter's siblings were keeping them company, enjoying hearing about their adventures. And they all got into the habit of replacing the children's belongings in Peter's room if they ended up somewhere they shouldn't be. Usually accompanied by soft admonishments like 'No, you do not need alcohol, so your stuffed toy should not be in that cupboard', or 'Why is this shoe sitting in the middle of Rocket's tools? You're not old enough to play with machinery.'

And in an unspoken unanimous decision, none of the Guardians ever spoke to each other about the gentle hugs they'd all felt at different times upon waking from nightmares, or the joy they all sensed flooding the room, but couldn't place, when the whole team was gathered together. They were a family. And if not all the _members_ of their family were among the living... what did that matter? These were Peter's siblings, so they belonged with him, and his new family. No matter what.

Family came first.


End file.
